Friendship
by RixxiSpooks
Summary: Merlin and Arthur are friends - sort of, unofficially. But how deep is that bond? Okay, despite the abrupt ending this is finished! I want to thank everyone for reviewing but I can't take it any further!
1. Chapter 1

_His fall was almost graceful; an arching curve that led him from the back of his horse. The dull thud as he hit the floor, however, was not. The crack of his head hitting the hard earth was disturbing to say the least. He lay completely still._

_Another figure lurched forward, his face full of horror, as he skidded to his knees beside the fallen man. He could hear his heart beat reverberating round his skull, blocking any other sound out and deafening him. It was like being underwater; completely and utterly silent, suffocating. _

_Bending over the other man's chest he groaned as he saw how deep the arrow was embedded in his chest, only half the shaft was visible. Blood oozed steadily out of the wound, creating a sticky pool of liquid on the ground. This was bad; really bad._

* * *

Merlin woke with a jerk, his eyes snapping open as he heard his alarm clock go off, well to be more accurate, he heard Arthur go off. His thundering footfalls were oddly unique to him; Merlin felt he could tell just by the pitch that it was his master.

"Merlin!"

The boy sighed and rolled out of bed. He intended it to a rather smooth move but unfortunately his leg got caught in the sheets and he dropped inelegantly onto the flagged stone floor. Talk about getting out of the wrong side of the bed; he couldn't even get _out _of bed.

Suddenly the door to his bedroom was flung open, the flimsy wooden door smacking into the wall and cracking with the force. With an extremely irritated look in his blue eyes, Prince Arthur stood, surveying the room, hands on hips. When he did not see Merlin immediately he frowned until he looked down and caught sight of the other boy.

"What on earth are you doing down there?" Arthur's face was comically confused.

"I fell," Merlin muttered, clambering speedily to his feet.

"Well…." The young man frowned, shook his head, and seemed to regain his train of thought, "I thought the point of servant was that they get out of bed _before _their master so they can get everything ready for the day. I come in here and you are still lazing around doing sod all."

It was just then that Merlin noticed Arthur's attire. He seemed to have dressed in the most clashing items possible and the young servant was sure his shirt was on back to front. He spluttered, struggling to hold back hoots of laughter.

"Can you not actually dress yourself without my help?"

Arthur looked mortally offended, his lips hardening in an angry line.

"I can but you were supposed to get my clothes washed and brought back this morning, so I had nothing left except these," the young Prince plucked at his maroon trousers and green tunic.

"But your shirt is on backwards," Merlin sniggered, wandering over to his own closet in search of clothes. He then realised that none of his garments were actually in the closet but strewn all over the room so he set about the task of uncovering something vaguely clean. He found his shirt under the huge, leather-bound spell book which he'd discarded last night. A neat slip of the foot allowed it to vanish under the bed.

"It's not!" Arthur protested, "It's…." he looked down at his top, "….meant to be like this." With that statement he shot a glare at his manservant and spun on his heel, stomping out of the room. "I expect you in the Great Hall after breakfast or there will be hell to pay, Merlin! Do you understand?"

"Yes, _sir_," Merlin nodded, pulling the shirt over his head, "See you there."

Once the Prince had left the young sorcerer made his way into the main living quarters, scuffing his bare feet on the wooden floorboards. He yawned widely and slumped onto a stool. Gaius wasn't up yet so he had breakfast on his own, finishing the bread off from the previous dinner.

Arthur may be next in line to be King but Merlin couldn't help but feel he was still like a big kid; petulant and stubborn. Or maybe a mule, that was an appropriate description too, though he doubted the other adolescent would appreciate either title. Merlin wondered fleetingly what Arthur would say if he greeted him as Mule but then decided he would rather not find out in case it involved a pointy sword and his neck.

On his way to the hall, the youth bumped into, literally, Gwen. She was carrying a bundle of clothes that looked not dissimilar to those that belonged to Arthur. As they collided she dropped the pile and fell on Merlin. He laughed and apologised profusely, picking up the clothes.

"I was just coming to find you," Gwen informed him, her entire posture emanating embarrassment at her current position in Merlin's arms after he caught her. He however, always oblivious, didn't notice.

"Oh, why?" A smile curled his lips. "Couldn't keep away?" The teasing look in his periwinkle blue eyes frustrated the girl no end. Did he just not understand?

"I came to give you Arthur's wardrobe. You left the whole lot with the washerwomen. I didn't want you to get into trouble."

"Ha, a bit late for that, Gwen, he's already thrown his temper tantrum and stormed off," Merlin grinned, "Thanks anyway." He gathered the clothes off the floor and offered her a quick nod before charging off towards Arthur's bedchamber, almost tripping over a stray sleeve on his way.

* * *

The Great Hall was disturbingly empty today. There were no meetings to be held and no visitors so it was of no use. The King was away on business and so no one dared to set foot in the big echoing room without his expressed permission. Everyone except Arthur. He didn't see the point of avoiding the place like the plague. It wasn't as if his father had ever made any rules about who could enter the hall and who couldn't and when. Then again, even if he had Arthur wouldn't have heeded to them.

At that very moment in time, the young Prince stood, alone, at the edge of the hall, looking out of the large windows at the kingdom. It sprawled out in front of him like a never-ending blanket of houses: cream and grey contrasting to the forests and grassland behind it. And beyond the green pastures were towering mountains, purple in the early morning sun. This would be his one day.

There was a light tap on his shoulder and Arthur jumped, startled, twisting on the spot so he was ready to face his assailant. It was Merlin, a smug smile on his face.

"H-how did you do that?" the man demanded. No one could ever creep up on him; his ears were too attuned to the slightest of noise after years of hunting. Hearing a twig crack or a leaf rustle was the difference between catching your prey and not. Yet, somehow, he had not heard Merlin as he walked in boots across a hard floor.

"Magic," the younger boy smirked, his eyes sparkling with undisguised mirth. Arthur scowled, this was the second time today his servant had caught him out and it wasn't even lunchtime. When did he get to be so sharp?

"Yeah, right," Arthur said sarcastically.

"So, what are we doing today?"

"Practising."

"Practising what?"

"Ah, that is for me to know and you to find out when I can be bothered to tell you." Arthur tapped his nose, knowingly.

"You know, riddles really aren't your forte. We are going horse-back fighting aren't we?"

**Well, what do you think?**


	2. Chapter 2

A carpet of leaves covered the forest floor, made spongy by hidden clumps of moss

A carpet of leaves covered the forest floor, made spongy by hidden clumps of moss. The carpet was only interrupted by the occasional stray tree root that had escaped above ground, providing perfect natural obstacles for any trespassers. The trees themselves were evergreens, tall and looming, blocking out the majority of any sunshine that tried to penetrate the thick canopy. Without the sun's rays the forest was half-lit and a bit unnerving; silent and isolated. There wasn't a lot of wildlife, very few flowers grew because they couldn't get enough light to sprout properly, and the animals seemed to stay away from the area. Their reasons unknown. Maybe the lack of vegetation had something to do with it.

So why Arthur had picked this particular place to practice his sword fighting was beyond Merlin. It seemed ridiculous to come this far away from the castle but he couldn't argue with his master. He knew he'd already pushed the Prince too far today and wasn't going to annoy him further.

Instead, he gritted his teeth as he was continuously battered by a barrage of sword blows and shield thwacks. He was sure by the end of this session he would be black and blue and more than a little stiff. Arthur didn't seem to be holding back anything; Merlin supposed this was his punishment for being so mouthy.

However, after yet another terrific blow to Merlin's head which snapped his neck backwards, the boy decided he would exact his revenge. So as the young Prince came charging at him again, horse galloping at full speed, its eyes wild with excitement, Merlin whispered a quiet charm.

Out of nowhere the branch appeared, Arthur was certain it hadn't been there before but it was now: thick and solid. He attempted to duck but it was too late. His chest connected full on with the tree limb and he was catapulted off the back of his steed, practically somersaulting to the ground. It was a shock, yes, it hurt, yes, Arthur could stand those things but what he couldn't take was the humiliation of Merlin having witnessed the whole embarrassing event.

There was a soft chuckling coming from somewhere to his left as the ringing in his head died away and Arthur flipped up the helmet visor to see his servant standing over him. Merlin looked amused but also somewhat guilty which Arthur couldn't understand; why should the boy be guilty, he hadn't caused the incident after all.

"That didn't happen."  
"Oh, but it did."  
"It didn't. And if I so much as hear you gossiping like a little servant girl to all your little girly friends then you will wish you'd never been born," Arthur hissed, his blue eyes narrowed.

"All right then," Merlin smirked, narrowing his own eyes to mirror the Prince's. Arthur could tell he was being mocked and he didn't like it. Still, he couldn't blame the servant he supposed, he was the one acting like a girl and being tetchy. He needed to calm down. "But can I laugh?"

"What?"

"Can I laugh, here, where there is no one else?"

"Why not," Arthur muttered, removing his helmet and smoothing his blonde locks. He then noticed how messy Merlin's hair had become after being cooped up inside a helmet. It suited the boy, he thought begrudgingly, it was almost endearing, no wonder all the women thought he was cute.

"Thanks," Merlin said and then laughed, loudly. Arthur groaned.

Suddenly there was a blood curdling scream that ripped through the previously peaceful forest. A few roosting birds fluttered out of the trees, cawing. A chilling gust of wind inexplicably whistled by and both the boys froze. Merlin's eyes sought out Arthur's and they stared at one another, disconcerted. That scream had sounded distinctly human.

"What do we do?" Merlin murmured his spine prickling and the hair on his neck standing on end. But Arthur didn't reply for he was already moving off, feet treading silently on the leafy floor. The manservant followed just as quietly, his eyes scanning the foliage for movement. And there was some. A small figure burst forth from the undergrowth, cannoning towards them like a rock from a sling. It ran so fast it didn't appear as if its feet were touching the ground.

It was a little girl. Her eyes full of unbridled fear. Her hair billowed out behind her like a silken flag. Somehow she caught sight of them in her panic, her eyes widening with some unknown emotion, as she changed course and slammed into Merlin's knees almost knocking him over. There she stayed, hugging his legs and shaking uncontrollably.

"What's wrong? What's going on?" Arthur asked, stepping over to her but still keeping one eye on the forest in front of them. The girl stared at him, uncomprehending. "What happened?" The Prince tried again. Still the girl did not reply. "Do you speak English? Do you understand?"

"I think you are scaring her even more, Arthur," Merlin suggested.

"Well you try then," Arthur snapped, throwing his hands up in frustration.

Merlin nodded and tried to extricate the child's grip from his legs so he could bend down to her level but she would not let go. Her strength was surprising. Eventually he gave up and, feeling slightly stupid, craned his neck to look down at her. She seemed absurdly small, like an elf.

She had elfin features in fact. Dark hair, beetle black eyes and a small almost pointed nose. She lacked the points on her ears though.

"Are you all right?" Merlin was satisfied when he received a miniscule nod. He even managed to spare a smug look for Arthur.

"She could've just moved her head, how do you know she nodded…." Arthur began but the younger boy hushed his defence.

"Can you tell us what happened back there?" A shake. "Was it scary?" A nod. "What kind of scary? Like big man scary? Or monster scary? Or magical scary?" For this last question Merlin received a sharp look but he shrugged it off.

"I don't think you gave her much chance to nod or shake her head considering that's the only thing she can do," Arthur said slightly harshly, still smarting from her refusal to cooperate with him, the Prince, preferring to talk to a servant.

"So-rry," Merlin retorted, taking care to add sarcasm, as he turned to look at Arthur

"Whoa! Merlin! Watch it!" Arthur yelped as the little girl began to fall. Fortunately, Merlin seemed to have lightning quick reactions and he caught the child round her slim waist before she hit the floor. "I think we need to get back to the castle and to Gaius. Whatever spooked her will be long gone and maybe she'll talk when she's less panicked."

"You're right," the sorcerer agreed.

"Of course I'm right. Let's go." They hurried for their horses.

She was pale, really pale, like the kind of pale that wouldn't be far off the snow they got in Camelot once or twice a year. In fact, Merlin would almost describe her skin as translucent. He could see the blue of her veins on her spindly arms. And she was cold, icy even, so much so that when Merlin lowered her onto Gaius' physician's bed he shivered when he touched her.

Both teenage boys stood by and watched as the castle doctor went about his work, feeling for her pulse, testing her reactions, checking her temperature. It was quite awhile before he finally finished the examination and when he did it was inconclusive.

"I can't find anything _physically _wrong with her apart from the fact she's ice cold and a little skinny but those things don't seem to be affecting any of her major organs. She is just unconscious."

"Maybe you scared her to death, Merlin," Arthur suggested lightly, "She couldn't take your questioning."

"Says you," the servant replied, "_What's wrong? What's happened? Do you speak English?_" Merlin did a mean impersonation of the Prince who glowered in response.

"_I _say you both stop arguing and do something useful. Arthur go do whatever you do and Merlin….come with me."

"Will you update me on her condition?" Arthur queried, glancing at the sick girl and then at Gaius.

"Of course. I'll send Merlin for you as soon as she wakes."

"What am I? A messenger boy?" the young magician grumbled.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for the reviews. I hope you enjoy this chapter. **

Huge blue orbs floated through Merlin's dream like massive, disembodied eyes staring blankly at him. In fact Merlin was sure they _were _eyes and maybe he was not actually asleep anymore. Willing his brain into gear the magician focussed on the pair of incredibly sapphire irises, like pools of still water. And then he returned to reality.

To discover that although the eyes were blue they were so dark that they appeared black, the colour of the night sky on a starless evening, and that they belonged to a pale heart shaped face. The face that he recognised as that of the little girl. Leaping up from his prone position, Merlin felt a cold icy hand grip his heart but then it passed. He must've just been unnerved by being awakened to find someone staring at him.

"Good morning," he said, attempting to sound cheerful but still perturbed. The unsettling child remained silent, her gaze boring into him. "Feeling better? It was quite a scare you gave us when you keeled over like that…" Merlin trailed off, unable to continue his charade of casualness, she was just too intense.

That was when Gaius entered the room. He halted when he saw the scene between the young man and the child; she was expressionless and he was fearful. It was quite shocking really and the physician wondered what on earth the girl could've done to upset his easy going, practically immovable, apprentice.

"Hello, Merlin, did she wake you? I'm sorry, I was trying to feed her breakfast but she wasn't very hungry. I turned my back for a second and she wandered off." This was Gaius' attempt at breaking the tension in the room. Unfortunately it failed miserably, the two youngsters remained watchful of each other, their eyes locked in a sort of internal combat. "Merlin? Arthur came round earlier to see her and was asking for you. He said, now these are his words not mine 'That just because he's babysitting the elf doesn't mean he can't do his normal jobs' so I would get moving if I were you."

At the mention of his prince and master, Merlin tore his gaze away from the child and blinked twice before clambering from his bed. Gently he pushed the girl out of his way as he had to pick up his shirt from under her foot. It was odd, like having a ghost present that didn't talk or do anything. Merlin felt the hairs on his neck prickle. She just _kept _watching him, not wavering once.

"Are you all right to look after…her, Gaius?" the servant boy queried hoping the answer would be yes. He didn't think he could stand another moment in her company.

"We'll be fine."

"Did you by any chance discover her name? Has she even talked to you?" Merlin tied his neck scarf on and tugged his boots onto his feet.

"She has not spoken to me. I was hoping she'd said something to you…" Gaius stopped; even he had noticed how much the little child was staring at Merlin. He was positive she hadn't blinked.

"No she hasn't but I best be off now," Merlin hurried for the door, "Have fun." And then he left.

As he half ran half walked down the deserted staircase in search of his prince, Merlin couldn't help but find his mind awhirl with thought. Who was this girl and why wasn't she speaking? Why did she stare so much? At him in particular. What had happened to her in the forest? Why had she been to such a secluded place on her own? What had she seen and had that caused her to go into a sort of mute shock? As these questions reverberated around his skull like incessant woodpeckers Merlin didn't notice until it was too late that the bottom step was a considerable amount taller than the rest and he misjudged the distance, losing his balance and crashing heavily (and painfully) onto his backside. He felt a jolt of agony shoot up his spine with the impact.

"Merlin, are you auditioning to become the court jester?" Arthur asked mockingly. The servant looked up from his sprawled position and realised his master had witnessed the entire thing.

"Only if you're willing to step down from the role yourself, my lord," Merlin replied smartly. He may be in immense pain but he could still rattle off comebacks as well as the next man. Arthur seemed to pass over his comment and offered a hand to his friend. Astonished, the younger man took it still expecting some kind of trick but none came.

"Anyway, now you've decided to appear I haven't actually got anything for you to do."

"What? You mean you dressed yourself?" Merlin commented and then immediately regretted it, he wish he could take back what he'd just said. Surprisingly Arthur didn't seem too bothered about that jibe either and the sorcerer found himself worrying for the prince's mental state.

"Yes thank you, I did. Now, I was wondering whether anything more had happened with the little girl." The question seemed to come out of the blue and for a second Merlin was confused. Then he realised what or whom the blonde haired man was referring to.

"She's abnormal. Dark, even evil. I have to say I don't particularly like her, sire." It was something in his bones that told him that, some kind of prior intuition that warned him that this child was not all that she seemed. He hadn't realised so much yesterday but this morning his instincts had been all but yelling at him to get rid of her and make sure she could do no harm to anyone.

"Merlin!" Arthur seemed genuinely shocked at his brutally honest statement. He had never really seen such reaction come from his mild mannered manservant let alone about a little helpless girl who had no family and had obviously had a traumatic experience. "I could say you're abnormal but that doesn't mean I shouldn't like you." Merlin skipped over the underlying meaning in that sentence – he would consider it later – and hurried to defend his harsh words.

"It's not just the fact she's out of the ordinary, my lord, it's just…I can't explain it…" The warlock wondered whether he should really be telling Arthur this but then decided he could trust the man not to make a big thing of it "…I just have this kind of foresight about people, I'm a pretty sound judge of character."

"_You _are talking utter _nonsense, _Merlin. Let us go visit her and you can show me the evidence that backs up your theory. From the way you talk of her you make it sound like she's the spawn of the devil himself."

"I wouldn't be surprised," Merlin muttered under his breath, following his master reluctantly.

* * *

The couple had barely been with the tiny youngster more than two hours and already Arthur was completely enraptured by her. Merlin couldn't understand it. It was like the girl had some kind of power over him that made him bend to her every will – even though she never said anything! Even Gaius seemed to be warming to her, he told Merlin not to be so judgemental and hostile to an innocent child. It was ridiculous, how was he meant to protect anyone when they would not listen to anything he said?! The cold feeling in his chest – the icy hand wrapping itself around his heart – was ever present. So strong was its presence in fact that it hurt when the child got anywhere close to him.

"Come on, sweetheart…" Sweetheart?! Who the hell was this man and what had they done with Prince Arthur? Never would Merlin believe he had heard the future king speak those words, not even to a lover. There was something wrong going on here. "Why don't we go outside, it's a beautiful day, and you can pick some flowers and stroke the horses?" This was definitely not the man the magician was familiar with.

All the girl had to do was nod to this suggestion and Arthur was hoisting her onto his shoulders as if she weighed nothing and heading for the door. Merlin moved swiftly after them, holding the door open for the prince.

"Merlin, could you go and tell my father that I will be out for awhile," Arthur ordered his servant.

"I-but…" Merlin definitely did not like the idea of leaving the infatuated prince with this peculiar and somewhat dark child. However, Arthur shot him a quelling look that said 'If you do not do what I tell you I will hang you from the battlements by your undergarments' and somehow Merlin knew his master was being ludicrously serious. With a frustrated sigh the young warlock marched off in the opposite direction to his liege not realising what a fatal mistake he had made.

**So, what do you think, in my head the little girl is really unnerving and kind of freaky but have I actually portrayed that to you guys? Review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Never mind an update everyday guys, I give you another in one evening! Thank you so much for the reviews! Am so glad you like my plots and characterisation!**

The girl danced through the meadow, her dark curls flowing out behind her and her eyes full of joy. She was barefooted, her tiny delicate feet so fragile they looked breakable, and dressed in a pale blue dress trimmed with white lace and embroidered with white flowers. In the sun that shone down from the cerulean sky her skin looked so thin it was translucent, the veins were visible like miniature rivers pulsing beneath the flimsy membrane. Her movement was graceful and mesmerizing through the long green grass and colourful flowers. It was not surprising that the young man with her could look no other way but at her.

She giggled, a high pitched tinkling that rode on the breeze like a wind chime's music. It was one of the very few sounds she did make; not a word left her rosebud lips. Arthur was sure he would follow the girl to the ends of the earth just to hear that laugh. As if she had read his mind the child giggled once more and then gestured with her slender hands for him to come with her. He followed her as obediently as a dog would follow his master. No other thought entered his head except: do not lose sight of her and her magical aura.

The two of them came upon a lake, a huge pool that glistened and shimmered in the sunlight. The surface was so smooth and undisturbed it could've been a glass mirror, reflecting everything that looked into it. Around the lake, on the gently sloping banks, were water ferns and reeds, waving like a thousand green tendrils. But the young prince hardly observed these features; all he could focus on was the girl and the way she skipped gaily towards the water with not a care in the world. As she reached the shore she dipped one barefoot in the clear liquid sending a barely visible ripple across the surface.

And then, before Arthur could do anything about it, the child waded into the lake, the water swirling around her small frame, engulfing first her feet, then her legs and then her chest as she proceeded farther. Soon she was nearing the centre of the lack whilst the young man stood; slack jawed with astonishment, at her fast vanishing figure. There was another giggle and then…a scream. The child disappeared. Spurred into action by the fact that he could no longer see the object of his affections, Arthur charged into the lake, oblivious to the freezing cold temperature of the water that drenched his body. He had to find her! He had to save her!

* * *

Merlin burst into the throne room, doing a skid across the newly polished wooden floorboards. This earned him a disapproving glare from the servant who had just cleaned them. He ignored him and hurried forward, not waiting for the King to address him. The only thought in the warlock's head was to perform the order Arthur had bid him to and then spill all his worries and concerns to Uther in the hope he would do something. If that planned failed then Merlin would leave as soon as he had delivered the news and seek out the prince himself.

Looking up from his near fall, Merlin's eyes were met with Uther's piercing blue ones, cold and fierce. He gulped.

"What is the meaning of this?" the King questioned loudly, his jaw set with controlled anger.

"I-I apologise for the intrusion, your majesty, but I believe I have a matter of great urgency to inform you of…"

"Which is?" The man appeared to be unmoved.

"Well, Prince Arthur told me to tell you he was going out for the majority of the day with the girl he rescued just yesterday," Merlin paused, gauging a reaction. Yet again the King was indifferent.

"And? Is that what all this is about? This matter of great importance is that my son is going off for the day?"

"That was what he ordered me to inform you of but I perceive problems that Prince Arthur may not have realised…"

"Such as, boy, you are irritating me by skirting round the problem, if you have something to say just say it!" Uther now just looked impatient. Merlin shifted from one foot to the other.

"I believe the child is abnormal, in fact I would go as far to say she is not a child of this world and is born of….magic." Immediately the King's eyes narrowed and his posture tensed. Merlin could tell this was not going to go down well.

"Are you jesting with me?"

"No, my lord, why would I jest about such a matter?!" Merlin was desperate now; he could see that Uther was nowhere close to believing him.

"And is there anything to back you up? Any evidence? Any witnesses? How about Gaius the physician…?"

"Well, no, he does not believe her to be dangerous in the slightest but…"

"I have heard enough. If Gaius does not believe her dangerous then why should I? Leave now, boy, and stop wasting my time." The King gestured for him to leave. Merlin sighed, he should have expected this, why should the High King listen to the word of a measly servant boy? It was frustrating to be so lowly thought of!

He would have to revert to Plan B, go by himself, and hope that he was not too late to help Arthur. Fairly certain that the couple could not have gotten far the magician headed for the courtyard in search. However, after questioning several passing servants and the guards he had discovered that Prince Arthur and the girl had left on his steed a while back. Merlin couldn't think how much time had passed since he last saw his friend and master, how could he have taken so long messing with the King when he should've been protecting Arthur?! Mentally berating himself, the boy saddled a mare and headed off in the direction suggested by the gateman. Hopefully he wouldn't be too late.

* * *

Arthur couldn't find the child anywhere, each time he dived down into the murky depths she was not there. It was as if she had vanished off the face of the earth. With each submerging the young man grew more and more cold and fatigued, his entire body was weakening – it felt like lead. Soon he could not even feel his toes in his boots because of the icy temperatures and his mind became addled with the wintriness of his surroundings. The lake was not the best place to be in late autumn even if the sun was shining – though it wasn't now, the skies were overcast and grey. Arthur felt the strength seep out of him. He just wanted the frosty waters to envelop him and for it all to end.

* * *

Merlin pulled his horse up to a stand still. It snorted noisily, stepping backwards and tossing its head. The animal obviously didn't like the feel of the place anymore than he did. As he surveyed the grey scenery around him he saw a deserted meadow, overgrown and wild, and a wind-lashed lake that swirled with dark, ominous waters. And in the middle of that lake, he now realised, was a small black figure frozen to the spot. He guessed immediately it was Arthur, he could sense the prince's presence. But what was he doing in the lake; he must be catching his death!

Swiftly, Merlin kicked his mare into a canter and charged down to the shore. He knew that he had to get Arthur out of the water or he would die. That was the only thought controlling his mind. He must save his friend. Flicking off his boots and shedding his jumper, the manservant braced himself for the icy plunge. But before he could even dip a toe in the water something materialized before his eyes, blinding him with its brightness. Squinting and shielding his face, the young sorcerer looked to see what it was.

Then he saw her. The girl. All sweet and innocent but somehow absolutely terrifying at the same time. She had an evil smile curled on her lips. Her eyes were black and emotionless. A reddish pink aura surrounded her small frame. That was when Merlin realised she was floating, hovering a few inches above the ground.

"Merlin," she said in a high soprano voice, her lips barely moving. Merlin wasn't even sure she was using her mouth to talk. The words just emanated from her. "It is nice to see you again. I wasn't sure how long it would take you to come and rescue your friend. I knew you didn't like me from the start – you were suspicious of the innocent child that stole your friend's heart from you…"

"But you weren't innocent. You are whatever you are! And from what I can see that is far from innocent. What have you done to Arthur? Why is he in the lake?" Merlin interrupted, he wasn't going to wait for this creature to make speeches whilst Arthur was in trouble.

"Ah, poor boy, he is freezing right now, his body core temperature is dropping dangerously low. I doubt he'll last much longer," the girl almost laughed; almost.

"Let me past, I need to help him!" Merlin made to shove by the levitating _thing_ but it blocked his path. "Who are you and why are you doing this?"

"I can't allow you to help him. He's meant to die." The girl informed him with such sincerity that Merlin almost believed it but he shook that thought away. "And to answer your question…I am a Faerie, I do not have a name. I have no reason to do this except it has been ordered by my mistress."

"Nimueh!" Merlin breathed.

**Duh, duh, duuuh! No more updates tonight! Need sleep and to return to the depths of my book the Crystal Cave. If you like Merlin and history and legends I strongly recommend you read it! Review! - have a banana for your troubles -**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks for the reviews! **

Immediately Merlin knew that this Faerie was a minion of Nimueh, one of her many magical creatures she had enslaved to do her bidding. He had been right, the girl was not a girl at all but a spirit-like being and she had tricked and manipulated Arthur into peril. The young warlock knew his master had been acting strangely and this explained it, the Faerie must have cast some kind of spell over him.

There was no time to dwell on the extent of the Faerie's magic now though; he needed to save his friend from the cold, black waters of the lake. He tried to peer past the floating girl to see the prince but his view was blocked by the intense light. Frustrated he once again made to get around her. She laughed mockingly and blocked his path.

"Dear Merlin, you are a fool if you think I will allow you to save your prince. There is no way that you can rescue him; I assure you my mistress has planned this trap for weeks."

Merlin was beginning to grow irritated at the Faerie's condescending, patronising voice and her air of being more powerful than him. There was no way he was going to stand back and let Arthur drown just because some Faerie told him he couldn't. He hadn't failed his master yet. A spell worked its way to the tip of his tongue and with a quiet murmur he cast the charm. It bounced off the creature harmlessly; it was as if she was protected by some kind of invisible shield.

"Oh, young warlock, you cannot expect me to allow you to use your magic so easily. As I said, Nimueh prepared me for all such cases. Your spells and enchantments are useless against me." The girl smiled coolly.

But the manservant was still not giving up; he would die before he stopped trying to aid Arthur. He just knew that whatever happened he had to make sure his friend survived this ordeal. It didn't matter what price he, Merlin, had to pay in exchange. A million ideas whirred like bees through his head but he knew few would work. Therefore he selected the most simplistic one, the most obvious. Nimueh and her slave had planned for every eventuality; every complication he could throw at them, but had they really considered the most likely option?

With a cry of anger, Merlin lurched forward, tugging his dagger from his belt and charging straight into the magical being. The creature looked surprised and, on some instinct that must be common to both living and immortals, moved out of the way of the blade. This gave the wizard time to dive head first into the lake and begin his journey. He thanked his mother for teaching him to swim at a very early age. Powerful strokes thrust him threw the icy water, each pull knocking the air from his lungs.

Soon he had reached the centre of the lake and the statue-like figure of his prince. Reaching out to Arthur and spraying water everywhere, Merlin grabbed onto the other man's arm only to find it wasn't there. His hand passed through thin air and the figure vanished. Merlin realised too late that it had all been a trick and this wasn't Arthur. With a sinking feeling, the young boy turned back to the shore and saw the hovering light that was the Faerie, watching him with amused eyes. The creature hadn't moved an inch.

Suddenly the something gripped his ankle, a burning sensation whipped across his exposed flesh, and then he was dragged beneath the surface. The world was turned upside down in a swirling torrent of murky grey.

* * *

Arthur had no idea where he was. All he could remember was being in the meadow, and then that lake and the little girl! He remembered vaguely that he had not wanted to leave her but for the life of him couldn't understand why. What he did know now was that his head hurt and he was lying on a very uncomfortable, uneven rock that stuck into his back. However, when he attempted to shift slightly to relieve the unwelcome pressure he found that he could not, there were some unseen bindings that held him fast. With a grunt of effort the young man determined he would not be able to move at all. He was stuck with the rock.

That was then the face appeared above him, in fact, several faces. He wasn't sure if it was his imagination as they seemed almost blurred, his eyes could not focus on any aspects or features that created their expressions. Looking at them hurt, his pupils contracted, stinging with the effort. There was a strange glowing aura surrounding each one.

"He is awake," an ethereal voice almost sang.

"He is, do we tell our mistress?" another asked the first. By the pitch and timbre of this one's voice Arthur guessed he was male.

"Soon. First I want to talk to him," the first spoke again.

"Ophelia, I think we should tell our mistress." The male was anxious. "She will be angry otherwise."

"She is busy," Ophelia dismissed his fear in her carefree, whimsical voice, "We have time. Don't we Yarrow?" The female turned to the face that had not yet spoken expectantly.

"I want to know what he is thinking," the third, called Yarrow, whispered his voice even lower than the other male.

"Well, why don't you just _ask _him then, completely ignore all the rules our mistress has ever set us?"

"Will you stop being such a whiner, Rif?" The high, tinkling voice sounded again. Then the seemingly feminine face concentrated solely on Arthur. He felt horribly vulnerable lying on the floor his belly completely exposed to attack; he couldn't move any of his limbs to defend himself. "Prince Arthur?"

Plucking up his courage, trying to seem like he was in control and knew exactly what was going on, Arthur spoke. He knew you should never give away to your enemy your weaknesses and lack of knowledge. "I am he. Who are you, may I ask? And why have you brought me here? Where is here?"

"So many questions!" Ophelia giggled delightedly, clapping a pair of glowing white hands together. "But it is for us to ask the questions, not the other way round. I believe this is what you call a conversation."

"Or an interrogation."

"The human is sharp," Yarrow commented his lips, from what Arthur could make out of them, were barely moving. That was mainly what he had noticed about these beings, they spoke without actually speaking.

"Sharp and wary, like a cornered wolf! Look at the way he stares at us as if we are about to eat him!" Ophelia laughed once more, her dark eyes sparkling with amusement.

"How do I know what you are planning to do with me?" Arthur snapped. He didn't like being talked about as if he was not there.

"You don't, but I can assure you it does not involve us eating you. We're not animals. In fact, we are far from it," the girl creature smiled, showing the prince rows of straight white teeth, "You asked who we were: we are Faeries. Yarrow, Rif and Ophelia."

"And what do you want of me?"

"Oh,_ we_ don't want you," Rif broke in, his expression earnest as he leaned forwards. Arthur determined that he must be a youngster. Actually, he was pretty certain that all these magical beings must be younglings. "Our mistress does. She ordered us to bring you here."

"Who is your mistress?" Arthur asked just as Ophelia jabbed Rif in what must have been his ribs by the sound he made and bid him to be silent.

"Why on earth would we tell you? All you need to know is that you are never leaving this place. We have been left to guard you until our mistress returns to deal with you."

"So where is she now?" the young man was probing, these infant Faeries had very loose tongues.

"Seeing to Merl-" Rif's eyes widened with horror as he realised what he'd just given away. Prince Arthur immediately picked up on his mistake.

"Merlin?! What has Merlin got to do with this?!" Arthur was shocked at how panicked his voice sounded.

"Everything," Yarrow hissed, his expression as hard as granite.


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry for the long update. I've been focussing on my other story. I want to finish this one though. Thanks for the support.**

Merlin thrashed for all he was worth. He kicked and struggled to try and get away from whatever _thing _had a hold of him. All the while his lungs were filling with the water that he allowed in through his open mouth. He was drowning. The pain hadn't gotten any better, his ankle still seared with agony but the hurt was moving, spreading up his leg like a venomous snake. Soon his entire limb was riddled with the burning sensation.

His mind was void of anything except the fact that he had to escape and he had to _breathe_; he needed to fill his lungs with cool, clear air. The pulling became more ferocious and Merlin looked up, seeing the surface of the lake spiralling away from him. With one arm he reached out feebly, attempting to go back up but he continued to sink. The warlock was sure it was the worst feeling he had ever experienced – suffocating under volumes of water. That was his last thought before he blacked out.

* * *

Her presence was felt before she appeared. A sort of cold, unearthly atmosphere enveloped the dark cell and made Prince Arthur shiver involuntarily – that was not just because of the temperature drop. She even brought her own glow with her as she descended down the stone flight of steps into the underground cavern. It lit up every nook and cranny: illuminating the rats that had previously hidden in the shadows, outlining the ragged rocks that acted as the man's prison and bathing his own face in an unwelcome heat. It made the skin on his cheeks prickle.

The three underlings who had been keeping watch on Arthur, hovering a little way off in their own conversation snapped to attention immediately – their black eyes focused on her. Even from this distance, the prince could feel the waves of tension and excitement radiating from them. They were like young children waiting to observe their first ever hanging – coiled with anticipation.

As the woman grew closer, Arthur couldn't help but be blinded by her beauty and radiance; it was hard not to be. Her eyes were unbelievably blue – bluer than the brightest sapphire in the kingdom – and her skin as fragile looking and white as porcelain. Waves of mahogany fell around pale face surrounding her flawless features and pooling gently onto her shoulders. The prince had to rein his jaw in - disgusted with himself. He was determined not to be taken in by her looks. She was evil.

"_Prince _Arthur," she smiled, her lip curling, coyly. The way she pronounced his title made him angry, as if she were mocking him. "Nice to see you." She made a swiping action with her hand and the prince felt himself free of the bonds on his hands. He sat up.

"Nimueh!" Arthur breathed. He had suspected as much before she arrived but he didn't want to be proven correct. "Why have you brought me here? My father will kill you if he hears about this."

"Oh, Arthur, don't be ridiculous, by the time Uther finds out it will be too late," Nimueh giggled. The prince felt the angry heat emanating off him. He wanted to kill her.

"Are you going to kill me?"

"In time," the sorceress shrugged, "But you are not my priority."

Just then, before Arthur could even contemplate what she meant, something appeared at the top of the stairs. It was the little girl. He recognised her immediately. What on earth was she doing here? She was in so much danger if she stuck around. He wanted to shout at her to turn back and run away but then they would see her.

All this time Nimueh had been reading his facial expressions: seeing his surprise and his worry and his frustration. She smiled amusedly and said, without even turning her head. "So, you have recovered him?" The girl been to walk down the steps but as she went Arthur realised something that made his blood run cold – she wasn't actually walking, she was floating.

"I have, my mistress, but it was close. The creature of the lake almost had him before I could save him. Unfortunately I had to kill it so it will not be possible to use it in the future."

"True, that is unfortunate, but you have him?"

"Yes."

"Who's him? What are you talking about?" As Arthur asked these questions he had an awful idea about who they could mean. He couldn't believe that the little girl was on Nimueh's side. She must have been a plant all along, ready to lure him into this trap. He'd been stupid to trust her. Merlin hadn't. He guessed that she must be one of these Faerie things but an adult as she was more developed.

"Oh, Arthur, surely you have guessed by now?" The powerful witch turned to him, her perfect eyebrows raised. The prince stared back solemnly, his lips set in a thin line. "_Merlin_. We have captured your manservant, your companion, your _friend_…whatever you wish to call him."

"Why?" Was the immediate enquiry.

"_Why?_ Because he poses a bigger threat to me than even you can imagine. He and he alone will be my downfall. Therefore I must kill him."

Arthur was dumbfounded, how could the most powerful and evil sorceress in the land believe that his Merlin, the Merlin that didn't know a canter from a gallop and fell over his own feet on a completely even surface, could destroy her. She must have got the wrong person. It was absurd. And now she wanted to kill him? Things were looking very bad for the young man.

"Where is he?" Nimueh had turned her attention back to the girl. They spoke in hushed voices so that their captive could not hear a thing. It wasn't for lack of straining though.

"He is being brought here by the Grunts. They will be along soon."

"Good, tell them to leave him with the young prince and leave the two of them to stew for awhile. I want to see how the infant sorcerer explains himself." With this callous statement, the witch smirked and ascended the stairs, not even bothering to spare another word on Arthur. The mature Faerie followed but not before she'd summoned the youngsters. They complied reluctantly.

"There is plenty of fun still to come, little ones, this is just the beginning," she assured them and then they left more willingly.

* * *

It was several minutes later before there was more movement at the top of the steps and Arthur didn't bother looking up to see what was going on. He didn't want to realise it was Nimueh coming to torture him once more with cryptic words and riddles. However, as he heard the heavy, very unladylike footfalls, he did look. Two mountainous figures were tramping down the stone steps and between them they held a very limp body – like a carcass being brought back from a hunting trip. Arthur had no idea what they were but he knew they weren't human.

As they reached the bottom, their faces still in shadows which obscured their identities, they marched over to where Arthur was and dumped the body beside him. Then, without a word, they left. Hurriedly, the young man turned to see who it was lying beside him although he already had a fair idea.

Despite the practically non-existent lighting, Arthur could not miss the raven black mop of hair crowning his head, nor the pale skin and familiar brown jerkin. It was undoubtedly Merlin. He smelt different though, like pond water, and as the prince reached out to touch his servant he felt how wet the boy's clothes were. Obviously the Faerie wasn't joking about him being saved from the creature of the lake.

With a firm shake, Arthur attempted to rouse his seemingly unconscious friend; he needed to know what was going on. The first time had no affect but after a few more vigorous endeavours Merlin let out a small groan. His master couldn't help but sigh with relief.

"Merlin?" he queried.

"Arthur?!" came the almost instantaneous reply and the prone figure was suddenly upright – his body rigid. Wild eyes caught Arthur's and he was surprised by the emotion and relief in them. "You're okay!"

"Of course I'm okay, when was I not…" he paused, realising he was being a bit nonchalant, "…Well, I suppose being trapped here by an evil sorceress isn't so great but still…"

"You've seen Nimueh?!"

"Yeah," Arthur nodded, almost smugly; he had mistaken the horror in his servant's voice for awe.

"W-what did she say?" Merlin asked, tentatively, wanting to make sure he had all the relevant information first before saying anything.

"Well, not a lot to be honest, but what she did say really confused me and that was – and this is about you when I asked why they kidnapped you – 'Because he poses a bigger threat to me than even you can imagine. He and he alone will be my downfall.'" The older boy looked at his companion expectantly, as if the servant would explain it all away.

""You know she's wrong, Arthur, I alone won't be her downfall," Merlin said eyes downcast. He had this feeling that now was the time to reveal his secret before someone else did.

"That's what _I _said. I mean, who is she kidding?"

"You _and I_ will destroy her."

"What?!"


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks for all your support. Cant wait for the next episode of Merlin cos it looks like Arthur may find out about Merlin's magic, though its unlikely. Whoop!**

He really didn't want to have this conversation. It wasn't the best time or the best situation. His mind couldn't concentrate on explaining it in the gentlest way that would not hurt or anger his friend because his leg was demanding his attention. The limb throbbed painfully, burning arrows of agony lashing his skin. It took all of his strength and bravery not to whimper at the excruciating pain; instead he bared it as stoically as any courageous knight.

"What?!" Arthur repeated his previous disbelief.

"You and I," Merlin said slowly, enunciating every word "_will _destroy her."

"Yeah, I got that, idiot, but firstly…I don't want to offend you, Merlin, but even I think I could never defeat Nimueh so what have _you_ got to offer? She's the most powerful sorceress in the land."

"Well…" the boy paused, trying to ignore the ache in his leg, so he could get his words out in the right order, "She may be the most powerful sorcer_ess_ but what about a sorcerer?"

"She's a woman, Merlin," Arthur raised an eyebrow, incredulous.

"I got that, thanks. What if there was someone else that could do magic and maybe was just as powerful as her? If not more."

"Are you actually getting to the point or are you just skirting round the issue? What are you trying to _tell _me?"

The warlock wanted to cry out in frustration. The prince had _asked _him what he had to bring to the table and now he was talking about sorcerers and magic. How could Arthur not put two and two together? He was so thick sometimes. Merlin guessed the problem was that he didn't listen.

"What I'm trying to tell you, Arthur Pendragon, is that I'm a warlock." Merlin said the word warlock to try and soften the blow, somehow it didn't sound as bad as sorcerer. Arthur stared at him, uncomprehendingly. Maybe he would have to put it another a way. "A magician?" No reaction. "A wizard? An enchanter? A conjurer?" The manservant hesitated, sighed, and said the dreaded word. "A _sorcerer_?"

Arthur burst out laughing.

Merlin was disconcerted. He hadn't expected this kind of reaction to his words. He had expected full blown anger, hurt, distress or at the very least complete silence; not laughter. The young manservant raised one eyebrow with surprise, trying to understand his master's actions.

"A sorcerer, Merlin?" The man finally managed to wheeze, clutching his stomach in an attempt to stop his guffawing.

"Yes."

"You claim to be a sorcerer, to practice _magic, _and tell the son of the King of Camelot, who hates and despises any form of enchantment, this? It is absurd. Is this just another self-sacrificial thing like the incident with Gwen, Morgana's handmaid? Do you have a hero-complex?"

"My lord, I am telling you this with the utmost sincerity. You queried what I have to offer and I am telling you the truth." Merlin was growing desperate. How could Arthur just _not _believe him when he told him right to his face that he was a warlock? Wryly, he thought of Gaius, who had told him that at any moment the prince could uncover his dark secret. Unlikely considering Arthur would not accept Merlin's own word as true.

"I do not believe a word of it."

"I can see that," Merlin muttered in a sour undertone.

"So, now you've got your ridiculous ideas out of the way, maybe you can help me think of a way out of here." The prince shook his head at his servant's ludicrous statement. It seemed odd for his friend, who was usually so modest, quiet and down-to-earth, to come up with such imaginings.

"What will it take to make you believe I am a warlock?" The manservant asked suddenly. Arthur sighed, this was getting tiresome now, why would Merlin not just drop the idea and move on. It seemed pointless to keep persisting. Still, he needed to do something to get his friend to focus and if that was to set him a challenge then so be it.

The blonde haired captive took a quick sweep of the room. There wasn't much to see because now Nimueh had left the light had gone with her and everything was plunged into darkness. What they needed was a source of light so they could figure out where to go and what to do.

"See that piece of wood…" the man pointed, "…I want you to ignite it. Give me a torch, Merlin." Arthur then looked at the younger man expectantly, knowing there was no way he could complete the task. Even if he had a bit of flint, the boy would not be able to light the wood as, because of the damp underground conditions, the torch was soaked.

"Could you not think of anything harder?" Merlin sighed and wriggled his way over to the said object. Arthur was confused as to why the boy did not stand up to make his journey; he was not manacled after all, but forgot all about that when suddenly a flame flickered into life. The orange flickering fire had appeared from nowhere. It was so quick it; Arthur had not seen Merlin do anything. He did, however, see the triumphant grin on his servant's face.

"How did you do that?" The Prince of Camelot still refused to believe his eyes.

"Magic," Merlin said.

"Sure."

"Arthur…" the magician groaned. He groped around for something more that could prove his powers. Spotting the shackles chaining Arthur to the ground, Merlin cast a spell to break the bonds.

"I-you…" It looked as if Merlin had finally gotten through to his master. He wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. He supposed he would have to judge that on the reaction he received. The young man stared, first at his freed legs, and then at his friend. Then back again. "I can't believe you hid this from me."

"Well, it wasn't exactly hard, you aren't the most observant of people and Gaius said…"

"Gaius? He knew, all this time he knew?"

"Yes." There was complete silence.

"Oh my god," Arthur paused, his eyes widening, "My father will _kill _you."

"Not if you don't tell him." Merlin watched his friend carefully, his expression grave.


	8. Chapter 8

Arthur stared at his friend in a completely new light. He actually could not believe what the manservant was telling him. It seemed so unlikely, that this mere servant boy could control magic in such a way that Nimueh would be fearful of his power. However, Merlin had already demonstrated his skills by lighting the torch and freeing him from his shackles; so really it had to be true.

The prince was surprised, yes, but more than that he was miffed that he hadn't even noticed. Merlin must've been hiding his wizardry well, despite what he said about Arthur being unobservant. Arthur knew he wasn't unperceptive; you couldn't afford to miss things if you were a knight - it was part of your training.

On the other hand, he was sort of glad he hadn't known until now. When he had first met the young, bold boy he hadn't particularly liked his attitude and had he known he was a warlock then he would've turned him into his father straight away. Merlin would be dead. But now, over the past few months, Arthur had grown closer to the manservant; they were friends, sort of – unofficially. It made his decisions much more difficult, he was having second thoughts. Everything wasn't black and white anymore.

Looking at his friend again – who was clutching the still aflame wooden branch – Arthur was struck by how small he seemed, how unthreatening and weak his entire demeanour was. He was a gawky adolescent in the period between childhood and adulthood where all his limbs still looked awkward and overly long. It was not shocking really that no one had suspected Merlin of anything. The prince supposed that was what made the young warlock even more powerful; more lethal – if you looked at matters through Uther's eyes.

"Despite how much I'm enjoying your sudden interest in me, my lord, I can't help be conscious of the fact our lives are in danger and we have little time, if any, to escape. Could we maybe discuss this later?" Merlin's voice cut through the older man's whirling thoughts, bringing him back to the very real situation they were in. His tone was laced with a sort of bitter irony.

Arthur's mind snapped into gear, his conscience ordering him to ignore the fact that he had just discovered the man he probably trusted most in the world was a wizard so they could go about getting out of this place alive.

"Right, yes, well, um…" Suddenly everything felt very awkward. "Do you have any um…magic tricks that could unlock a door?" Merlin offered him a withering look as if to say 'that is a ridiculous question' and turned to face the door at the top of the stairs. He muttered a few words which the prince could not comprehend and there was a soft click. The door was open.

"Now, before we go," Merlin said as Arthur clambered to his feet, "There is one slight problem we need to address."

"What?"

"I can't walk."

"What?! Why?!"

"I have injured my leg. I'm not sure the extent of the wound but I can't walk on it. Can you…um…help me?"

It seemed weird. The two friends were experiencing enormous shifts in their relationship in the space of just one conversation. When they had entered the cave Arthur had been the superior being the prince and master but then he'd discovered Merlin was a sorcerer who would bring the downfall of Nimueh – something he could only dream about – with spells that could create fire and break out of prisons. He had felt quite insignificant. But then the warlock had admitted injury and he needed Arthur's help. It showed his vulnerability once more. The monumental changes could never be reversed.

"I-of course, Merlin." The sorcerer's master said his name with such unfamiliar tenderness it threw the boy for a second but he regained his posture quickly. It would not do to show weakness – not now, not ever.

Arthur walked over to his friend and offered him a hand. Merlin took it and rose gingerly to his feet, feeling spines of agony shooting up his leg. He hissed, attempting to disperse the pain. Then he leant heavily on his friend's shoulder. Arthur did not say a word. It did not seem appropriate to make a mocking statement or a teasing joke. It was obvious the warlock was in immense pain.

The pair of them headed towards the steps and moved up them with some difficulty. Arthur was tempted to sweep his friend into his arms like a damsel because that would make things easier and faster but he knew that would dent Merlin's pride and he didn't want that to happen.

* * *

"I am leaving you three here to guard the prince and the warlock."

Three nodding heads showed they understood the statement. Each had an expression of eagerness plastered on their face. This was what they had been waiting for. A dream come true. They had never had so much responsibility.

"You must make sure they stay in their prison until we return. If either of them are missing or _hurt,_," the woman directed her fierce gaze at one head in particular, "then there will be severe repercussions. I am trusting you with the wizard. He is my most prized possession. The prince was easy to retain but Merlin may prove more devious, trickier, for he has the use of magic. I have placed counter charms on the very outer doors so his spells will not work but you must still keep a close vigil. Understand?"  
"Yes, mistress," three voices chimed in unison.

"Good. Now we will leave." Nimueh gestured to the mature Faerie and the two of them departed. They were heading to a meeting with King Uther of Camelot. If he wanted his son back then a deal would have to be struck – a ransom one might say. Prince Arthur had served his purpose as lure and was no longer needed. It was pointless killing him – now anyway – when he could help the sorceress even further in bringing magic back to the kingdom.

* * *

Rif, Yarrow and Ophelia remained motionless for several moments after the witch and their guardian had left but once they were sure the couple were completely gone they broke ranks. Ophelia literally punched the air with joy, her wings whirring relentlessly.

"They have left us!" Yarrow hooted. "Do you realise what this means?" Rif, the least intelligent but most diligent of the triplet, frowned.

"No, what does it mean?"

"We have the prisoners to ourselves for the next few hours! They are at our mercy. Think of the fun we can have."  
"But our mistress said we are not to do anything except watch them."  
"Where is the fun in that?" Ophelia sang in her high voice. "We may not be allowed to hurt them _physically _but we can toy with them can we not?"

"I completely agree, Ophelia," Yarrow grinned, his eyes twinkling with undisguised menace. "Shall we go visit them?"

"I think we shall, my dear brother." With a tinkling laugh the female Faerie shot excitedly from the cavern towards the prison. Yarrow zoomed after her.

"Wait for me!" Rif called giving chase.


	9. Chapter 9

****

Thanks for the reviews! Sorry for the long update time. I loved Merlin on Saturday, especially Arthur sticking his foot in Merlin's face, somehow so cute! And Gwen's rant at Arthur! That was funny.

Yarrow's scarlet eyes narrowed with anticipation. They were making this too easy. He now had an excuse to do the malicious things he really wanted to do because they were escaping – it was completely justified. A sort of punishment and retribution.

Hovering in the shadows of the cavernous chamber he watched the blonde prince practically drag his friend across the ground. It seemed the creature of the lake had had more affect on the boy than any of them could have ever expected; the warlock was ailing fast. At a guess, the infantile Faerie assumed that there was some kind of poison in the tentacle-like-limbs that had ensnared Merlin and his body was feeling that now.

Still, Yarrow could not be blamed for that. He had not poisoned the human and therefore if he died it was not his fault. Nimueh could not accuse him of murder. However, although the spirit had no interest particularly in the sorceress' reaction, he was worried about his own fun. Maybe he should cast a spell to help the boy out a bit.

First he'd wait for awhile; Merlin's illness wouldn't affect this part of the grand plan and once it was over then maybe he could think about alleviating the sorcerer's pain – it was more entertaining this way anyway.

The Faerie focussed his gaze back on the pair and smirked.

* * *

Arthur was deeply perplexed. It took a lot to unsettle him but considering what was happening he believed he had a right to be a tad disconcerted. This was because a moment ago he was walking – struggling – through a cave trying to escape from an evil sorceress and her minions but now….now he wasn't exactly sure where he was. Looking around he was in a nursery, he was sure of it. It reminded him of the one he'd inhabited for the first few years of his life with his nanny. The walls were covered in tapestries depicting scenes from stories and legends such as Hercules killing the lion and Adam and Eve: these heavy hangings warmed the room along with the rugs sprawled across the floorboards. At the side of the room was a cradle made of beautifully carved wood. There were a few toys dotted around too and a metal bath stowed in the corner.

He could hear something: a pitiful whimpering that actually tugged at his heart strings when he was normally so infallible. Spinning round to find the source of the noise he was suddenly aware that the dead weight of Merlin that had been slumped on his shoulder was gone. At this revelation Arthur's breathing quickened and he panicked slightly. Where was his friend gone? When did he disappear? How could he have not noticed?

And then, as if by magic – pardon the pun - he felt a solid presence in his arms. He looked down, startled, into the pink face of a tiny baby wrapped tightly in swaddling. This was what was making the sound – its little red lips trembled. There were tears leaking from its blue eyes.

"I-what?" Arthur was rendered speechless. Where had the infant come from? He frowned in complete confusion, staring at the child once more. It gazed up at him from under raven locks, an oddly familiar expression in its sapphire irises. Suddenly the man was struck by an impossible idea. It could be; could it? "Merlin?"

He received no reply, but that was expected. However, the baby did quieten slightly, comforted by the sound of his name. This was beyond ridiculous. Arthur couldn't understand how one moment his manservant was, well, a man and now he was a small infant nestled in his arms. If it was Merlin though. He still couldn't be sure.

Unsure of what to do next, Arthur strode over to the cradle and decided to place the baby Merlin in there to keep him safe. The infant squirmed slightly as he was lain down and let out a pathetic squeak as if in protest to being out of his master's warm arms. His blue eyes welled once more and he stared up at Arthur with a hurt look that said 'Why have you left me? Why have you betrayed me?' and then suddenly, before the prince could register what had happened let alone react the floor beneath the cradle gave way and the entire object vanished in through the hole.

"Nooo!" Arthur screamed with complete horror. He dropped to his knees and attempted to see through the dust and debris that had floated up in the cradle's wake. Once the air had cleared he saw how far the cradle had fallen. They must have been in some kind of tower as the cot had ended up very far down. The prince was aghast; if that was Merlin then he was in deep trouble. Without thinking – he'd seen no other way out – the young man climbed down through the hole to hang from the underside. Looking down it was a long way but he needed to rescue the baby. With a deep breath he let go and plummeted through space.

And then he was somewhere else – just like that. It was a battlefield but there was no battle going on now, the fighting had long finished. All around him he could just see bodies; hundreds of bodies. The place stunk of blood – metallic and sickly. Above him the sky was a dark red and ominous.

Disorientated, he began to walk, wandering between the bodies in a sort of trance. There were so many of them, endless lives lost. After looking at several of the faces, each warped with expressions of terror and fear, Arthur found he couldn't look at any more. He had always thought he was battle-hardened, experienced and tough but the honest truth was that he'd never been to war. Camelot had been a reasonably peaceful place in his lifetime. He had no idea what it was like. He'd always pictured the actual fighting rather than the aftermath. This was horrendous. The men, they were so young, barely older than him, some even looked as young as Merlin.

It was as if simply thinking his friend's name caused the next thing to happen. Arthur had just persuaded himself not to look anywhere but straight ahead – to try and find a way out – when something caught his eye: a mop of dark hair, pale skin, the familiar red scarf….

"Merlin?" Veering from his set course out of the minefield of corpses, Arthur dived towards the body and groaned with horror as he saw the shaft of a sword embedded deep in his manservant's chest. Vivid scarlet blood drenched the boy's chain mail and spattered up his chin. "Merlin!" Once again the prince found himself skidding in a very undignified manner to his knees beside the prone man. He grabbed his friend's wrist and felt for a pulse. There was none. Merlin was dead.

Arthur hit the dead man's chest in frustration. He couldn't believe it. Nothing seemed real. His best friend couldn't be dead. It wasn't true. Yet the evidence was right in front of his eyes, as clear as day. With a muffled cry, the prince leant over the boy and half cradled his cold body. He didn't ever want to let go; never before had he felt this strongly about something. A sob hitched in his throat – that was a first too.

"What you crying for?" The voice was so close Arthur started and looked up. His eyes were met with the somewhat amused – if slightly dazed – gaze of Merlin.

"I…" Bewildered the prince looked around him and realised that he was not on the battlefield any long but in a rather dark cave. Usually this would not have been the most ideal scenario to be in but he was so relieved to be back to a place he knew he didn't care. "I'm back."

"Back from where? You've never been gone. Well, not really, you did put me down and then wander off for awhile. I wondered where you'd gone." Merlin offered him a bemused smile – his trademark.

"And you're alive…"

"Of course I am. I may have a bad leg but I'm not dying. I'm feeling much better in fact." The warlock's face suddenly lit up with realisation. "Were you crying because you thought I was dead?!" His tone was incredulous.

"NO! Of course not! Why would I cry if you were dead? Anyway, I wasn't crying! I don't cry! I have never cried and never will."

"Everyone cries. I bet you cried as a little baby."

"_Don't _talk to me about babies!" Arthur yelped.

* * *

Yarrow turned to his sister with an expectant look in his eyes.

"Your go. See if you can have more of an impact."

"Oh, I'm sure I will."


	10. Chapter 10

**Thanks for the reviews! Much appreciated! Can't wait til Saturday! Have to go to bed now :(**

"Your choice: your father or Merlin?"

The creature that stood before him seemed to have stepped straight out of a nightmare. It was similar to many monsters he heard of in legends and witnessed in story books. Standing over six feet tall with a pitch black cloak shrouding its figure and a hood obscuring its face, the _thing _was both huge and menacing. A smaller man than Arthur would have surely fled but he stood his ground, not least because he had just been given an ultimatum he could not just ignore.

"I don't understand."

"Dear boy, what _is _there to not understand?" The creature's voice was gravelly like an old man's but deep, commanding. It was also subtly mocking. "The choice is that either your father or Merlin."

"Thanks!" Arthur snapped, his usually impatient self, "I got that. But why do I have to choose one. What will happen to the one I don't choose?"

"The remaining man will perish."

"What? What kind of deal is that?" The prince was outraged. "What right have you to choose who lives and dies? Why should I make this choice?"

"Young Prince!" It laughed. "Surely you recognise me? You know what I am, what I stand for?"

"Sort of, but tell me your name!"

"My name, future King of Camelot, is Death."

"How appropriate," Arthur stated, sarcasm lacing his words.

Really, the young man had little idea what was going on. It was like before; everything seemed dream-like and unreal. Once again Merlin had vanished from right in front of his eyes and he was thrown into this foreign word. Yet the transition had been so smooth it was almost undetectable. Arthur had been ready for it though, hardened by his previous experience. Now he was positive, someone was messing with his mind.

"Extraordinarily so, wouldn't you say?" Death said, amiably. "Anyway, the choice…the life of your father, King Uther or your best friend, Merlin."

Several weeks - maybe even months - ago Arthur would've snorted at the two options. It would have hardly been a difficult choice. His flesh and blood, the _King _of Camelot, in exchange for a mere, annoying servant boy? It would have almost have been an insult in his eyes but now…now things had changed. The choice set before him seemed close to impossible.

Merlin may be vexing at times but Arthur had grown fond of him, no, that was the wrong word. _Fond _made him think of grandparents and their grandchildren, even of masters and their pets. But no matter how many times Arthur alluded to his friend's puppy-like nature (faithful and boundless) there was no way he could really describe him in that way. It was disrespectful, both to the boy in question and their relationship.

As the creature said, Arthur now realised, Merlin_ was_ his best friend. He was loyal, unfaltering, funny, friendly, kind, generous; dependable….the list really was endless. Despite the blip they'd just experienced in the unveiling of Merlin's gifts Arthur still had to admit that he would never want to be without the clumsy warlock. He, dare he even say it in his head, loved Merlin - like a friend, like a brother.

Whereas his father, well his father had never really been a father to him. On the odd occasion he'd do something paternal such as give Arthur a pat of congratulations or a pleased look but really those actions could be passed off as a King who was just proud of his best knight. There was little to say they were father and son other than their titles.

However, even as he thought this, Arthur reminded himself that without Uther he wouldn't be here and without Uther then he may not be the man he was today. His father _had _taught him to be courageous, honest and to care for his people. And he couldn't escape the fact that Uther _was _his father – flesh and blood.

"Have you decided me?"

"_Stop_ rushing me!" The young prince held up his hand in a halting motion. "Its not exactly a decision you can make on a whim is it?!"

"I suppose not," Death chuckled.

"All right, I've decided."

"And…?"

"I want to save…."

Everything went black and suddenly Arthur was surrounded by leaping flames that towered over him. He felt the immense heat on his skin; a burning sensation. Crying out in pain he curled into a ball.

"Arthur! You're hurting me! Let go!"

Merlin's voice brought his master out of the haze of heat and agony. Arthur drew in a sudden breath and shudder as if a bucket of cold water had just been thrown over him.

"What's happening to me?" He yelled as soon as he regained ability to speak. Once again he found himself in the cave. This was getting ridiculous, because of these hallucinations – if one could call them that considering they felt so real – they weren't making any progress in escaping and that was bad. They needed to get out of here.

Merlin stared at his friend, concerned. The man looked so confused and disorientated emotions that weren't often associated with the self-assured prince. Usually he was completely in control but now he looked like a little lost boy. From what he could gather, it seemed to the warlock that someone or something was causing Arthur to end up in other places but only in his mind. This was quite disturbing for Merlin because all he could see of the prince's adventures was his physical reactions. He could see the anguish on the man's face, his tense stances and violent hand movements but not hear words or see what was causing these actions.

And then Arthur would suddenly be normal again, lucid but slightly panicked. It was terribly disconcerting. There was nothing Merlin could do either; he had no idea where the magic – for that must be what was causing this – was coming from. He guessed it was some kind of torture Nimueh was enjoying putting them through. Therefore she knew they had escaped so they must move more swiftly.

"I'm not sure, Arthur, I think it may be magic," Merlin said, it still felt strange using the taboo word with the Prince of Camelot.

"Most likely."

"But whatever is going on with you we have to keep moving. You can tell me what happened in your visions later."

"Who says I'm going to tell you?" Arthur retorted haughtily to which he received a withering look.

"Or not," Merlin sighed. "Anyway, my leg is much better so come on!" The young wizard sprung lithely to his feet only to stumble slightly as he tried to start forward. Arthur grabbed his elbow in support.

"Yeah, _much _better!"

* * *

Ophelia smirked and turned to her little brother. "Let's see what you've got." Rif stared back at her with nervous eyes – if it was possible for a Faerie to look nervous. He pondered on what he could do to impress his siblings; they always thought he was stupid, worse than the two of them. But he'd show them. In fact, to show them just how good he was he'd trick the young warlock rather than the prince. Then they'd see…


	11. Chapter 11

**Thanks for the support. This was written to take my mind off looking up spoilers for the season finale! It's worked - so far!**

Merlin was sure he had made it to the exit; he could see the light shining on the wall from around the corner. This had to be it. He upped his pace, increasing his limping gait. Behind him he heard the hurried footfalls of Prince Arthur – the man had insisted on bringing up the rear just in case Merlin fell on his injured leg.

With rising excitement the young warlock rounded the bend and stepped out into dazzling sunlight. He shielded his eyes with surprise. They were free. No one was stopping them. Merlin's heart beat increased with anticipation as he began making for the dense trees in which the pair of them could get lost before Nimueh or her minions could find them.

Just as he was moving forward something stopped him. Arthur had grabbed his coat and was pulling him back. Merlin jerked in shock.

"What are you doing?" He asked, a tad irritated.

"Isn't it too easy?"

"What?"

"Escaping, I mean, shouldn't it have been more difficult. Nimueh knows you are a sorcerer so can unlock locks and stuff. She should have set something that could stop us."  
"Ah, you underestimate my amazing abilities," Merlin boasted.

"And you _over_estimate them!" Arthur was wary. Everything did seem too simple. After what had happened to him back in the cave he wasn't willing to take anything at face value any more. This could all be another elaborate trick, a mind game.

"Oh, come _on_, Arthur, why can't you just be happy that we got out in one piece? Don't overcomplicate things! That's usually my job."

"That's why I don't understand why your acting like this, Merlin, you're usually cautious! You think things through. I'm the one that's meant to go charging in without a thought."

"What's there to think about other than escaping?!" Merlin was incredulous. Why was Arthur insisting on being so difficult? So stubborn?

"I…." The Prince was stumped, he couldn't explain his feelings; he just had a premonition.

"Then what are you dallying for? Let's go home!"

The two vanished into the foliage.

* * *

Ophelia crossed her slender arms and narrowed her eyes as she turned towards her sibling with a perplexed expression on her face. Beside her, Yarrow imitated her movements. His expression was more accusing. The youngest Faerie offered them both a smug look.

"_What _exactly are you doing?" Ophelia said just as Yarrow stated in a cold voice.

"_You_ let them escape? What were you thinking?!"

"Oh, my dear siblings wait and see; you are so impatient."

"And you are so annoying. If Nimueh comes back and finds her prisoners gone she will be livid. I can assure you we will be dead before we can even say 'I'm sorry'!" Yarrow scowled.

"I'm not _letting _them get away. This is all part of the plan. Just watch," Rif smiled knowingly and returned to his game.

* * *

Merlin was slightly disorientated. He had allowed Arthur to take the lead in finding their way out of the forest and back to the castle but had he not had the man with him he would surely be lost. It was most odd that Arthur seemed to know exactly where he was going when to Merlin everything looked the same. All the trees were the same, the thickets, the ditches and fallen logs….

As he looked to his right, spying a small squirrel working its way along the maze of branches that spiralled around one another, Merlin did not detect the slight shift in the air that meant that his guide had stopped moving. Instead he just careered straight into the back of the blonde man. There was a crunch as the warlock's nose made painful contact with the bone of his shoulder blade.

"Y-ow!"

Arthur spun on the spot after feeling the hit and hearing the cry of agony. He saw his friend clutching a bloody nose and sighed with disbelief.

"Merlin, you may be a warlock and everything, but you really need to sort out your clumsiness!"

"I swear! I don't mean to do it! I just attract trouble!"  
"You're telling me," the prince replied, dryly, as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to his manservant. "Here."

"Thanks." The younger man took the cloth and dabbed gingerly at his nose. "Why'd you stop so suddenly anyway?" His tone was slightly accusatory.

"Look. There are some men through there." Arthur parted a thick bush and pointed into a clearing were three men sat around a small fire. Each nursed a mug of something hot and they chatted merrily. A little way away, in the shelter of a large oak, three horses grazed. They were tethered to the tree trunk. This was what Arthur was really interested in. "Do you think the people would think badly of me as a Prince if I stole a horse?" He whispered.

"I don't think they'd mind too much," Merlin answered, raising an eyebrow at his master's show of honour.

"Good, then let's take two."

"All right." The warlock shrugged. He wasn't going to disagree. His leg was aching and he just wanted to be home with Gaius and a soothing lotion.

"I can always return them after," the prince was muttering more to himself than his friend as he crept round the clearing towards the animals.

These beasts were not the finest specimens but they would do: they were a welsh variety with sturdy legs and strong backs - good for carrying heavy loads and travelling long distances. Arthur was used to chargers that were speedy and athletic but these would surely suffice for the purpose of returning to the castle. The young man took a moment to ponder how his father would react when he returned but dismissed the thought. They weren't out of the woods yet – literally.

"Merlin, could you do some of your magic-ky stuff to help?" Arthur asked, somewhat reluctant but more than a little curious to see what his servant could do with the situation.

"Sure. Why not?"

Merlin nodded to himself as he planned what to do. He told the prince to be ready to grab two of the horses whilst he created a distraction. Once Arthur was prepared he began to murmur his spell. The fire in the camp leapt into the air, sparking and flashing fiercely. If one looked very closely they would see shapes and animals curling out of the flames. All the men were too surprised however, they jumped back in alarm. The warlock then breathed another enchantment and the horses' ropes undid immediately. With a hiss in his direction from Merlin, Arthur darted forward and grabbed the loose reins.

Then the two of them mounted and cantered away.


	12. Chapter 12

**Ok, this chapter is not great but I just wanted to get it up because I have a really busy weekend coming up so I probably won't have time to update! Sorry!**

Rif smiled inwardly. He wasn't the best at creating spells and this plan didn't require a lot of magic which was definitely an advantage. The key was to let everything take care of itself and not push it too much. That would make this really successful. So far the boys had done all that he wanted.

They were currently making their way through the forest at a steady pace thanks to the horses and would hypothetically reach Camelot Castle by nightfall. However, that wasn't true because they would never get there if Rif had his way. The three Faeries were following the pair easily, flying just a few hundred metres behind. The older two still deemed it all to be a terrible idea and, despite their early enthusiasm and bravado, were worried about what would happen if Nimueh returned to find them gone.

* * *

Arthur urged his mount over a fallen tree as he continued on the path through the forest. It was so exhilarating to ride, he'd always found that ever since he'd been a small boy kicking his pony across a meadow. It was even more exciting to go fast, like a swift arrow shooting through the countryside. This was not such an easy feat in woodland but he'd sure like to give it a go. They'd been riding for ages and he needed a change in tempo, something to distract him from the drudgery. A quick sprint would be the perfect solution, Arthur was certain.

"Merlin! Fancy a race?"

"Why is life always a competition with you? If you're not racing on a horse you're fighting with swords or downing the most glasses of ale. And what's worse is that you always have to win."

"I like winning."

"Yeah, but everyone else likes winning too. You should give _them _a chance."

"Me-erlin? Are you_ slightly_ bitter? Are you trying to say in the most subtle way possible that you are a tad fed up and want me to _let _you win?" Arthur's expression was mocking.

"No! Well…maybe…actually, yes." The boy hated to admit it. "It's hard to always lose. It does nothing for my ego and yours is big enough as it is."

"But I _never _let anyone win!" Arthur was indignant.

"That's the point!" The warlock sighed. "Maybe you should start now."

"But what is the fun in a race that I lose before I've even started?" The prince argued.

"I may be forced to use magic then."

"Fine, but I'll still win!" Arthur gave a bark of a laugh and kicked his horse into a gallop. Merlin groaned inwardly and spurred his own steed on. Its hooves churned in the dirt as it pushed off from the ground. The prince's laughter trailed behind him in a very irritating fashion. The warlock squeezed his dark horse's sides even more, trying to get every last bit of speed out of him. Merlin also added a few enchantments under his breath to give the animal a boost. Soon he had his friend within sight.

And that was then it happened.

_His fall was almost graceful; an arching curve that led him from the back of his horse. The dull thud as he hit the floor, however, was not. The crack of his head hitting the hard earth was disturbing to say the least. He lay completely still._

_Another figure lurched forward, his face full of horror, as he skidded to his knees beside the fallen man. He could hear his heart beat reverberating round his skull, blocking any other sound out and deafening him. It was like being underwater; completely and utterly silent, suffocating. _

_Bending over the other man's chest he groaned as he saw how deep the arrow was embedded in his chest, only half the shaft was visible. Blood oozed steadily out of the wound, creating a sticky pool of liquid on the ground. This was bad; really bad._

"Arthur! Arthur! Speak to me!"

"Urgh!"

"Are you all right?"

"What does it look like, Merlin?" Arthur still managed to maintain his condescending tone even when he was wounded.

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"It's merely a flesh wound. I'll be fine." The young man began levering himself to his feet, wincing with pain. Merlin stared at him in disbelief. When he had asked the question it had been jokingly, something to alleviate the seriousness of the situation, he hadn't really believed Arthur would dismiss his wound so easily.

"Arthur, don't be absurd!" the younger boy cried, trying to support his friend by sliding under his shoulder in order to take the majority of his weight. "You are gravely injured! Let me help you at least!"

"I've had worse."

"Yeah, yeah, I know you are a brave knight and all that but I don't think even you can claim this to be unimportant."

"Can you heal it?"

"Huh?"

"Have you got any magic spells that can heal wounds?"

"Um…no, that is quite advanced."

"A lot of use you are as a sorcerer then!" Arthur cried frustrated.

"Sorry," Merlin mumbled. He wasn't used to having spells just asked of him so suddenly. Usually he used them when he needed them, when he felt confident enough to. This was different, someone was relying on him, expecting him to know what charm to cast.

"Well, we better keep moving. We don't know who shot that arrow and they could still be around ready to come back for more."

Arthur gritted his teeth and attempted to mount his horse once more. The animal had shied away after the fall and was plucking at the berries on a nearby bush. Its velvety lips avoided the nasty prickles on the plant in order to reach the juicy fruit. However, as the prince tried to climb up he found himself doubling over as a ferocious shooting pain harpooned through his chest. Immediately he felt a comforting hand on his shoulder and another arm beneath his own.

* * *

Yarrow stared at his brother with half angry half amazed eyes. On the one hand he was angry that Rif had caused them physical pain when Nimueh had specifically asked them not too and Yarrow had adhered to those rules even though he hadn't wanted to. But on the other he was proud of his sibling for coming up with such an effective plan. It may have nothing to do with the mind or magic, really, but bringing their hopes up only to be crushed by a well placed arrow. That was genius. Literally, the only piece of magic he had conjured was the arrow that would not miss its mark. Still, it had had the desired impact.


	13. Chapter 13

**I'm glad some of you recognised the Monty Python Holy Grail line popped in the last chapter! It made me happy! Thanks for the reviews and patience.**

Uncouth. That would be the word that Merlin would use to describe the young ruffian standing in front of him spouting a stream of words in a foreign tongue. No matter how hard the magician strained to hear, he could not understand a word of the constant gabble. By the sounds of it he guessed that maybe the boy was Egyptian but that was really hard to tell. His skin was darker than a normal Englishman's but only by a few shades. Merlin guessed he may be of mixed parentage. But what was he doing here, in the middle of the forest, yelling at Merlin?

"I don't understand you!" The warlock cried in frustration. "But can you please let me pass? I need to get my master to a physician."

"Master?"

"I don't und….wait, did you just speak English?"

"Master," the youth repeated, his eyes glinting with undisguised interest. Obviously it was a word he understood or at least recognised and by the look in his eyes he viewed it rather highly. Merlin realised his mistake just too late as the man lunged at him, knocking him off his feet, and began to pummel him with small, hard fists whilst spitting violently in his face.

"Money! Master! Money!" He screeched.

Struggling beneath his powerful blows, Merlin tried to dodge the punches but failed as each hand found their mark. The only way out of this was to give the thief the money he wanted but the problem was Merlin didn't actually have any money on him. He stared up at the shouting boy with defeated eyes.

_Crack_. The shower of fists ceased and the ruffian slumped forward onto the warlock's chest. The sorcerer jumped, surprised, but then began to try and wriggle himself out from beneath the body.

"For God's sake, Merlin, I can't leave you alone for a second can I? You are worse than a toddler."

"How do you know what a toddler is like? I wasn't aware you had siblings or even cousins," Merlin muttered as he climbed to his feet and dusted himself off.

"Well, I don't, but I can imagine they get in as much trouble as you," Arthur replied. In his hands he held a large club of wood. That was his chosen weapon to thwack his servant's attacker's head with. It had served its purpose well.

However, as Merlin stood, watching his master, he realised that although Arthur seemed steady his arms were actually shaking with the effort of holding the plank up. His friend's face was a white as a sheet, tinged with a ghastly green, which made him look sickly and unhealthy. He wasn't exactly fighting fit, Merlin reminded himself, considering he had been shot in the chest.

"What are you doing? You are supposed to be resting on the horse!"

"Well, I couldn't just sit there and watch you be robbed could I?"

"No, I guess not, it's your nature to want to save anything and everything," Merlin sighed more to himself than his friend. "Well, we best keep moving."

"I'm afraid that is not an option."

Out of nowhere Nimueh had appeared. Her face was smooth and pale, sapphire blue eyes contrasting to her light complexion and complimenting her black hair. These eyes narrowed with irritation. Obviously she had not been expecting to find the boys on the way back from wherever she'd been. The younglings would have some explaining to do when she returned. Beside her hovered the mature Faerie, its wings whirring continuously. It took had an annoyed expression on its flawless face.

"Nimueh," Arthur half growled. Despite his menacing tone, Merlin felt the weight of his master begin to lean on him for support. His body was weakening rapidly. If the prince didn't receive treatment soon he would die of blood loss.

"Prince Arthur," she answered genially – her tone was disturbingly gentle. "Fancy meeting you here. I believed you were currently in the residence of a certain cave."

"Oh, I found it was time to move on. There were a few damp patches that I really couldn't be bothered to deal with. Plus the place was a bit depressing to be honest." Merlin was stunned by his master's coherency and sarcasm considering his condition. There were times when he really did envy Arthur's audacity and courage.

"Ha," Nimueh let out a tinkling laugh before her gaze hardened, "Well, I really think you should be returning there. Especially you, Merlin, we have some unfinished business to attend to."

"I…" The warlock began only to be cut off by his friend.

"You know, I think the time for chatting has passed. Maybe we should make a break for it?" He whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

"I disagree."

"What?" Arthur gaped, astonished. He turned to his manservant just catching the gold glint in his irises before…

"I think its time for _you _to make a break for it." And before the prince could do anything to protest the world dissolved around him.

The man froze; too shocked to move, as everything came into focus once more and he found himself in a room. Looking round at the familiar unmade bed and floor strewn with random books and items of clothing, Arthur realised where he was: Merlin's room. With the constant stabbing pain in his chest jolting him into action, he waded through the mess and opened the door into the main room. Just as Arthur stumbled into the living quarters, doubled over in agony, Gaius looked up from his books to see a confused and severely wounded Prince of Camelot emerge from his apprentice's bedroom and collapse on the floor. He stared, astounded.

* * *

Despite not having a clue how he'd just completed an enchantment so beyond his current learning ability, Merlin was certain that he had sent his friend to safety where he would be well looked after. The warlock wasn't sure what exactly had allowed that kind of power to surge from him but he was glad of it. It meant he could finally get the prince out of danger. Now he only had to defend himself against the fast approaching Nimueh and her minions. He didn't hold out much hope. Still, what was it that Arthur said? 'Never give up until the battle is truly lost'. Maybe he could escape yet.

With his newfound power flowing freely through his veins, Merlin readied himself for a duel.


	14. Chapter 14

**OMG, wasn't Arthur so cute when he told Gwen that she could stay and he'd do anything for her. Adorable! Guinevere and Arthur are supposed to be together in the legends. Are the writers angling that way? Can't believe it is the last one next week! NOOOOO! Still, I'm getting the DVD for Christmas, can't wait!**

**Thanks for the reviews!**

Merlin could feel his heart thumping wildly against his ribcage. It was true that he'd performed magic many times before: helping to slay the Griffin, frightening off all of the raiders attacking his village, killing Sofia and her father. Despite all these things he was still unsure of his ability. Gaius always told him that he was destined for great things, or was that the Dragon? Either way, he was constantly being told that he was different to everyone else for a reason. Maybe part of that reason was now. He'd saved Arthur and now he needed to save himself, then he could continue to help Arthur become King of Camelot – King of all Great Britain.

If it was already foretold that he, Merlin the Warlock, would advise and protect Arthur throughout his princely days and then onto his kingship then surely that meant that he couldn't die now. Didn't it? _The future isn't set in stone._ A small voice whispered in the back of his mind. He could believe he was invincible, that could be his downfall. He just had to believe that he could defeat Nimueh or at least survive this encounter to battle another time, when he was even stronger.

In his time at Camelot Castle, Merlin had witnessed many fights and skirmishes between knights and even villagers. Most of which has been fought with some kind of weapon whether it be a flashing sword or a pitch fork. Sometimes it was even just fists. Never, however, had he seen a non-contact fight, a duel between magical folk; which was not surprising considering the repercussions of being discovered by Uther. Nevertheless, here he was about to participate in a duel against the most feared sorceress in the land with the few spells in his head. He suddenly felt very small, unprepared and insignificant.

"Dear Merlin, you challenge me? You are either very brave or very foolish," Nimueh smirked.

"Or both," Merlin muttered under his breath. He was aware that he'd bent his knees, coiled and ready to spring into action that was what Arthur had always taught him. Even if his master wasn't here and this wasn't a battle with swords he could still take comfort in following the rules his friend had adhered to for so many successful victories.

Nimueh, however, seemed to find this movement highly amusing as her smirk widened even further and a chuckle escaped her lips. She, herself, just faced her opponent face on, her gaze suddenly very intense. Other than that there was no change in her stance.

"Are you prepared, young wizard, to face a sorceress who has at least five times your experience in duelling and double your power? I bet you have never even fought in against another magician in your life, have you?" The witch laughed. Merlin made no reply, there was no point reacting to her taunting. It was just a distraction. He needed to focus on nothing but channelling his magical energy.

"So will it be one on one?" He did manage to hiss through clenched teeth; knuckles white on his clenched fists.

"Of course, my Faeries shall take no part in the fighting. That wouldn't be at all fair and I tell you, Merlin, I am a fair woman."

"But what if I begin to win? What will they do to me then? Will you summon them to your aid?"

"In that unlikelihood, I promise you, Myrddin Emrys, they will leave you in peace." Nimueh nodded firmly, her blue eyes bright and truthful.

"What did you call me?"

"It is Celtic. It is your name."

"But…"

"Thea grydden eila svelta!" The words came almost before the young man had time to register and he only just had time to jump out of the way on instinct. He rolled once on the mossy ground before rising with unfamiliar grace to his feet. A feeling not dissimilar to ice cold water thrummed through his veins, making his body tremble and judder with uncontrollable power. It had to be unleashed.

"Regrydin maxim huvult!" Light leapt from Merlin's fingers like a bolt of lightning, heading straight for Nimueh. She blocked it with a deft slash of the hand and sent the curse straight back at its caster. Fortunately, the boy had time to dodge once more out of the way, ducking close to the ground. This was ridiculous. She was way too experienced and powerful for him, whatever he did she would reflect with ease. There was no hope.

"Ferocite ignavo flamen!" He didn't stand a chance. The spell hit him in the centre of his chest before exploding, showering the rest of his body in immense heat and pain. Whatever Nimueh had sent at him it involved at lot of fire: balls of flames. It wasn't fatal though, that much he could be thankful for. Even though it didn't kill him, Merlin felt his skin burn and blister. His face especially, his cheek felt as if it was ablaze, and his chest – where the curse had initially struck – seared with agony. The manservant doubled over with the pain.

"Ah, Merlin, you didn't really think you stood a chance, did you?" The unnaturally beautiful woman stated almost pityingly. That tone riled Merlin; he couldn't just allow himself to be finished off like this. With strength he didn't think he was possible of, the young man forced himself to ignore the hurt and concentrate on the escape. What did you counter fire with?

"Frigio dunfa!" Shards of ice shot from Merlin's palm like deadly arrows and headed straight for Nimueh. There was a startled look in her eyes as they found their mark and shattered on her. Fortunately for her, because the warlock was so weak, the usually lethal icicles did not kill her. Instead, they enveloped her in an icy shell, rendering her completely frozen. There was no way she would be able to move until she melted. This gave the injured Merlin enough time to flee the scene. With a wrench of pain, he tried to heave himself onto the horse's back.

As he did this, he spotted the Faeries moving forward, staring at him. Had it just been the mature Faerie he may have been able to take her but as the younglings had rejoined the group he didn't stand a chance in this state. Dangling in the stirrup he waited for the inevitable.

"Please…" he whispered. After all this he was going to be dead anyway.

"We're not going to hurt you, young warlock," the adult smiled slightly, her eyes giving little away, "We heard the promise Nimueh made to you. We do not break promises."

"But, I haven't killed her, she'll be angry." Merlin wasn't quite sure why he was arguing for them to kill him. He gave himself the excuse that he really wasn't in a great state of mind.

"So, I think its time for us to move on anyway. There is only so long you can serve one mistress….or a master." The Faerie added, her gaze piercing.

"I think I'll be serving mine til the day I die," Merlin replied before completing the last step of mounting his horse. "Thank you." He nodded to the group and the frozen ice block that was Nimueh before kicking his mare into a gallop.

The next phase of his journey passed in a haze. Looking back, Merlin himself wasn't even sure how he made it back to the castle on a horse that had never been there before. Still he did, and the final leg of his ride was known by everyone.

* * *

A weary horse plodded slowly into the town that sprawled out beside the castle. It was obviously exhausted - in need of a bucket of water and a bed of straw – with its large head hung low and its flanks heaving with exertion. The steady clip clop of its shoe studded hooves on the cobbled street of Camelot drew the attention of several peasant children who were playing with a ball.

They caught the first glimpse of the tired mare and then the wreck of a man who sat atop her. When one says sat it was really not true; the rider was slumped on her back with his weak arms encircling her broad neck in an effort to stay in the saddle. His clothes were in tatters, stained with mud and, more disturbingly, blood. The raven hair on his head was just as matted and filthy but what was most shocking, other than his unseemly appearance, was the red raw burn splashed across his pale cheek like a morbid piece of artwork. There were more dark markings protruding from beneath his charred shirt, near the base of his throat.

The eldest of the children: a fearless boy aged about ten, hurried forward, when he saw the injured man. He had recognised him despite the burns as Merlin, the prince's trusted manservant. Even though he had no idea what had befallen the young man, he knew that he was never going to get to the castle on his own. So, with a decision set firmly in his mind, the lad stepped forward and took the reins of the mare from the semi-conscious man and began to lead her through the town. His friends followed, curiously.

As they passed through the streets, people stopped and stared at the entourage. Many of them too, realised who the wounded horseman was and mutterings soon erupted around the entire town. The group finally reached the castle courtyard entrance and the boy called out boldly to the guards posted there.

"Good soldiers, I believe this is, Merlin, the manservant of Prince Arthur. He is seriously wounded and needs help immediately. Will you let us by?"

Just as the men stepped forward to peer at the now unconscious man a voice echoed across the courtyard. Everyone turned to look towards the source.

"Is that him? Is that Merlin? Please don't tell me he's dead?!" The worry in his voice was evident. No doubt, from his position, it did look like the man on the horse was dead.

Prince Arthur was dressed in little more than a thin linen shirt with all the buttons undone and flannel trousers. His feet were bare and his face was pale and pinched with pain. The cause of his condition was plain to see as thick, white bandages were wrapped tightly round the majority of his torso. None of the people present had ever seen the Prince so unkempt and, well, un-princely, with his hair sticking up all over the place. There was complete silence.

"Well?!" He practically yelled, still struggling to reach the horse and its rider.

"Um…well, my lord, we don't really know." One guard said, looking at the children for assistance. Finally, Arthur reached them and caught sight of Merlin's burnt face. He drew a sharp intake of breath.


	15. Chapter 15

**Thanks for the reviews. Eeek! Rather random chappie!**

The King had summoned him so he had to go. There was no choice in the matter. However_ had_ there been a choice then he wouldn't have left Merlin's side. Not even the need of food or water could extricate him – he wasn't sure of the last time he ate. He had taken up permanent residence in the physician's quarters and was sure that Gaius must be sick of his relentless bedside vigil on his friend.

Here he was now, though, standing before his father, fully dressed and stony faced. He just wanted to get this over and done with and get back to Merlin, to assure himself, more than anything, that he was still alive. It really was strange how overprotective he'd grown of his servant. Arthur didn't want him out of his sight.

* * *

Uther surveyed his son with a calculating look: judging his stance, his expression, his _entire_ demeanour in an effort to gage what kind of affect the entire experience had had on him. There was no doubt that the King had been worried when his son, and only heir to the throne, vanished shortly after a young servant had informed him he was in grave danger. Then the servant had disappeared.

After sending out search parties that discovered nothing but two stray horses who were wandering, alone, on hillside, Uther had feared for his son's life. There was no evidence of where he had gone anywhere. Most disturbingly, it seemed that he had walked to the edge of the lake and then his footprints were nowhere to be found so he must have gone in. The King was soon drawing the conclusion that Arthur had drowned – perishing in the icy depths of the lake.

Then, two days later, Arthur had reappeared in Gaius' chambers, wounded and disorientated. The doctor had removed the arrow shaft embedded in his chest and patched the hole up before ordering the young Prince to rest. Uther had then visited his son, to make sure that he was all right, himself. However, when asked what had happened to him, all he could mutter was 'Merlin! Merlin' repeatedly. This thoroughly frustrated the King.

Nevertheless, by midday the boy had recovered his lucidity and was up and about ordering his men to go out in search of his manservant and preparing to saddle his own horse to ride out. This was where both Gaius – on medical grounds – and Uther – on matters of pride and dignity – stopped him from going. They would not allow him to step out of the castle.

Despite this setback, the dratted boy, Merlin, seemed to have found his own way back albeit unconscious and rather seriously injured. Uther was sure it would have been better for everyone had he never returned. Then Arthur could have gotten over him quickly and efficiently. Attachments as strong as his to his manservant were not good in Uther's eyes. Instead, the prince hadn't left the young man's side until now, not even to perform his royal duties.

"What have you got to say for yourself then?" Uther demanded quietly, expression granite-like.

"You make it sound like I've done something wrong," Arthur retorted, his smoky-blue eyes just as hard. His back was as straight as a spear and his chin held high as he addressed his father.

"Haven't you?"

"What do you mean?" The young man was defensive.

"You vanished without a trace. You told _no one_. Is that really how a Prince should act?" Uther stated his voice laced with controlled anger.

"No, but it wasn't out of choice, my lord."

"Then whose choice was it?" Uther questioned, sceptically, he had no idea what had happened and he knew the only way to get the truth from his guarded son was to goad it out of him.

"I was bewitched and captured," Arthur replied, "By the sorceress, Nimueh. She had these….magical beings called Faerie's that tricked me. They imprisoned me in a cave. Merlin, my manservant…" The young Prince found it difficult even to mention his name. "…came to help. He wanted to rescue me. Unfortunately he was captured too and thrown in the cell."

"A lot of use he was then," the King said, unkindly, eliciting a furious expression from his son, before he continued, "So, how did you escape then?"

"Um…."

Arthur had prepared himself for this question. He was never going to mention the fact that Merlin could do magic to his father. That was a given. He wasn't going to see his best friend beheaded after he'd survived such an ordeal. The warlock's secret was safe with him and that would be true for as long as he lived. Therefore he would just have to fabricate the story. However, he would still give his friend the credit he deserved.

"Well, Nimueh had these…Faerie's as I called them before. Some of them were quite young and rather naïve – even for magical creatures – and so easily duped. The witch left for awhile and Merlin managed to undo my manacles. Then he moved on to the door. It was pretty easy really. After that it was just a case of avoiding the younglings and obtaining a few horses to get back here."

"Your story has many holes in it, Arthur," Uther observed, dryly. "For instance, how did you come to be in your manservant's bedchamber, wounded, when he was still missing?" Arthur held his gaze for a moment, his mind working frantically to come up with a solution.

"Okay, there _was _a little skirmish in the woods with the Faeries. One of them zapped me and I ended up in Merlin's room. I'm not really sure how that worked." His reply was smooth. "The wound was obtained in the fight."

"So why didn't you tell me then?"

"Because, I wasn't sure about your reaction to the use of magic on me. I thought you'd be angry."

Uther's hard posture softened and he smiled, bemusedly at his son; he couldn't believe that Arthur could ever be worried about what would happen if he found out he'd been under a spell's influence. It was ridiculous. He wasn't that callous, was he?

"Well, I'm not, and despite appearances, son, I'm glad you are safe."

"Thank you. I'm glad to be alive too. Now, please may I take leave? I am feeling rather weak at the moment." Really this was an excuse to return to Merlin's side and both of them knew that but neither passed comment.

"You may do so."

"Thank you, sire."

* * *

Merlin opened his eyes very slowly; just a crack. He let out a low pitched groan as the pain on his chest and cheek which he had been so blissfully unaware of in unconsciousness returned. It still felt like the two areas were burning with the heat of the flames which had scorched him the first time. Suddenly he experienced something ludicrously cool and soothing on his cheek, covering the burnt skin. By the smell, he was sure it was some kind of salve. That meant only one thing: he must be in the hands of someone he knew – Gaius.

With another small amount of effort he forced his eyelids apart completely and winced in the light. Just over head, despite the dazzling shine, he could see the outline of someone's head.

"I really, _truly_, hope you were not wincing at the sight of me because I have not spent day and night beside this damn bed just to be insulted by an invalid."


	16. Chapter 16

****

Only two days left! OMG I may scream with excitement. I dont want it to end though! Btw, just as a note in this chapter, they did have Christmas back then. Thanks for the reviews!

"I'm not dead." Merlin said simply, then, "You're not dead either."

"Once again, I will congratulate you for your top observational skills," Arthur teased. "_Nothing _gets past you."

"What happened then?"

"I was hoping you could tell _me _that," the blonde man admitted. "For instance, I really want to know how on earth you got burnt like that." As he said these words Arthur reached out towards Merlin's raw cheek but then, when his fingers were inches away, he pulled back, suddenly unsure of himself.

"Nimueh and I had a duel," the warlock began, Arthur felt he could see the cogs turning in his servant's brain as he tried to recall, "She was much more powerful than me; more experienced. I dodged some of her spells but one hit me. It was a fiery one and that's what burnt me." The boy visibly shivered at the memory. "Then I…" _thought of you_, Merlin wanted to say but didn't, "And gained the strength to send an enchantment at her. It was meant to kill her but I was too weak. She was merely frozen. I think she'll leave us alone for awhile yet anyway. Then I think I got on the horse. I don't remember after past that point until now."

"And, why did you send me away like that? You just touched me and I couldn't do anything."

"Where did you end up?" Merlin asked, curiously.

"In your bedroom, isn't that where you meant to send me?" Arthur frowned at his friend's guilty expression.

"Well, not really, I didn't know what I was doing at the time. I'd say you were fairly lucky to end up only in my bedroom. I could've sent you to the other side of the world for all I knew. All I thought was 'Send Arthur somewhere safe, to recover'."

"You class your bedroom as somewhere safe? Merlin, that place is a death trap. I'm surprised you haven't broken your neck yet tripping over all the clothes on the floor." The Prince chuckled slightly at his servant's wounded puppy look which he was offered for his comments.

"I'm glad Gaius patched you up though, life wouldn't have been the same if you'd died," Merlin said, sincerely, his ocean blue eyes wide and earnest. Arthur was struck by the sudden change of mood and it really did bring home the fact that both of them had nearly lost their lives. It just showed what he took for granted.

"I feel the same about you," he answered, softly.

* * *

Gaius watched from a distance, at his work bench, as the two young men lapsed into silence. He hadn't been eavesdropping – no, _never_ – but he couldn't help catch snippets of their conversation and smiled as he heard how they had finally come to realise how much they meant to one another. Merlin and Arthur. Arthur and Merlin. They were two sides of the same coin and always would be. Nothing could tear them apart, not the Nimueh, not Uther, nobody. They would be one of the greatest couples in history, he knew it.

"Arthur," Merlin suddenly whispered, his voice tentative and his gaze downcast.

"Yes?"

"Are you going to tell the King then, about my…gifts?" There was a moment's pause and the warlock dared not look up and meet his master's eyes for fear of what he would see there. He needn't have worried however.

"Of course not, you idiot," Arthur grinned and hit him gently over the head with brotherly affection, "You're _dreadful _secret is safe with me." The small smile of relief that graced Merlin's tired face filled him with warmth. Everything was going to turn out all right.

There was a feast that night, to celebrate Prince Arthur's safe return. However, the man in question only attended for the start, for appearances and duty, before vanishing shortly after. No one was quite sure where he had disappeared to. Soon, though, his absence was forgotten as the partying got under full swing.

* * *

"We should probably take that horse back now," Arthur said in an offhand sort of way as he slumped in his chair, exhausted.

"Which horse?"

"The one we stole from those foresters."

"What?! No way. I love that horse. She saved my life. I want to keep her. Send them another horse but not Betha."

"Betha?"

"Yes, I've named her. It means _life _because she saved _my _life."

"I think you saved your life, Merlin." Arthur pointed out casually.

"She helped."

"Fine, I won't send her back, besides, I don't think I could hope to find those men anyway and I don't fancy going back into the forest with Nimueh probably out for revenge."

"She won't be angry for long. Soon she'll calm down and think of a plan to kill me and you again," Merlin stated, offhandedly.

"Oh, Merlin, you really know how to make someone feel better don't you?" Arthur sighed.

"But in the meantime how about we just think about recovering, eh?"

"I totally agree."

* * *

In the weeks that followed, Merlin and Arthur both made their way along the long path to recovery. They both spent a lot of time together, despite Uther's increasing annoyance, as Arthur couldn't practice his swordsmanship for fear it would rip his stitches and Merlin could move a lot anyway as it irritated his tender burns. Fortunately, the terrible scorched skin on his face, once red and raw, faded gradually. It first became a pinkish shadow and then was no longer visible unless you looked very closely. Thankfully, it was nowhere near as bad as Edwin Muirden's scarred face. Merlin still retained his handsome, boyish complexion. The marks on his chest, however, would remain with him for a long time.

By the fourth week, nearing Christmas, Arthur was becoming very restless and bored. He enjoyed Merlin's company but he really wanted to get out and ride his horse and fight a few knights. With this thought in mind he visited his manservant who had recently got out of bed and still bore the remnants of the night on his face to ask him to come with him.

He suggested that they rode into the forest as a way of trying to overcome their horrific past memories there. Merlin agreed, as long as he was permitted to ride Betha. The pair went to saddle their respective horses. As Arthur was slipping the bridle over his stallion's head (these days he barely ever got Merlin to do many jobs for him, it didn't seem right. It was disrespectful almost) he paused.

"You know your mare is called Betha?" He pondered.

"Yes?"

"Maybe I should name mine Than? What do you say?"

"What does that mean?" Merlin asked, perplexed.

"Death," Arthur grinned, patting the animal's warm flank. "Then we will have Life and Death in our hands."

"That's just plain morbid, Arthur, and you know it."

**I was going to name the horse Mort but then I realised the name of the final episode was Le Mort D'Arthur and thought it was a bit too close to home. **


End file.
